A Really Bad Day
by MiladyGirl
Summary: Miranda comes down with the flu and all in all has a really bad day. Maybe Andy can make it better.
1. Chapter 1

A/N

I was not supposed to write fanfics now – I've got plenty of original things that needs some working on – but it happened. I know this has been done before, and it's been done _better_ before, but still. The muse apparently decides everything for herself.

Basically, it's Miranda coming down with the flu and being looked after by Andy. Personally I'm a germ phobic, and would run for the hills if I were Andy, but luckily for Miranda, Andy isn't me. :P

* * *

It was one of those days when everything went wrong, Miranda thought. Yes, even she had days like that. It began with her oversleeping – something that never happened to her before. But it had today. She had slept through the alarm clock's blaring and woke up half an hour later than usual. Had woken up to a headache and a scratchy throat. Then she had tangled her legs in the sheets and falling rather than stepping out of bed. Then she had forgotten The Book. She would never admit it to anyone, but she had actually forgotten The Book. She realized it when she was almost at the office, and had Roy turn around and take her back through the entire morning traffic again. She would have been furious if she could possibly have blamed anyone else. In fact, she would have been furious with herself too, if she wasn't feeling too run down to gather the passion of fury.

Then she had been forced to wait for an elevator because they were all busy. And when she got out of the elevator, she somehow – she wasn't sure herself how it had happened – managed to trip herself and break off the heel on her Jimmy Choo.

In her office everything seemed to be under control, though. Magazines placed out correctly, scalding hot coffee right where it was supposed to be, the spread she had asked for delivered. Sitting down, she flicked through the rival magazine of Vogue – only to realize that bitch Anna Wintour had managed to snatch the very idea she had for Runway's next cover. She took a sip of her coffee for comfort, and the pain it sent to her already sore throat was unbearable. She coughed and put the coffee aside. No coffee today, it seemed.

"Andrea", she said, noticing that her voice already started to sound hoarse. Oh, great, this was really shaping up to be the worst day of her life. When her second assistant showed up, Miranda's mood improved significantly, however. Andrea seemed to have that effect on her. Gentle, brown eyes met Miranda's.

"Yes, Miranda".

"Get rid of that", she said with a curt nod towards the coffee. "And make me some tea instead, honey".

Andrea looked dumbstruck at this instruction, and Miranda nearly groaned out loud when she replayed her words in her mind and noticed her slip. Her Freudian slip.

"I, uh, didn't catch that, Miranda, I'm sorry", the girl said.

"Really Andrea, do you need some time off to see the audiologist? I asked you to make me some tea instead, _with honey_", she corrected herself, not missing a beat. "That's all".

"Okay, right. Tea with honey coming up", she said and disappeared. Miranda hid her face in her hands and suppressed another cough. Yes, she was definitely coming down with something, and it was rapidly progressing. She would never let her guard down to the point where she'd actually let her inner thoughts slip out like that if she wasn't sick.

* * *

Andy had to go shopping, because obviously there was no honey in Runway's domain. By the time she got back to Miranda with the requested beverage, the editor-in-chief was very clearly running a fever. Her eyes looked glassy and dazed, her cheeks were flushed, and her shoulders slumped as if she was too tired to straighten them. Andy put the cup down on her desk and hesitated, almost asking Miranda if she was alright, but decided against it.

"That's-" Miranda cut herself off and stifled two quick sneezes before finishing as if nothing had happened; "all".

"Bless you, Miranda".

"I'm not sick!" Miranda retorted as if Andy had said anything, immediately contradicting herself by having a coughing fit. She looked defiantly at the younger woman, her eyes daring her to push the matter.

"I didn't say you were", Andy responded gently.

_No, she didn't. And you just confirmed it yourself. Way to go, old woman._

"That's all", Miranda dismissed her with a final glare. When Andrea left her office, she closed the doors behind her. Miranda was absurdly grateful for this; it was Andrea offering her privacy without being told to. And that privacy was needed if she was going to make it through this day, because the tickly feeling in her throat had returned and she just knew she was going to cough all day.

* * *

By noon, Miranda was feeling so feverish she was reconsidering her decision to go into office at all. Not trusting her voice to carry, she decided against staying put and call for Andrea, but walked out of her office to tell the assistant to reschedule her afternoon and call Roy. Her body ached, even her skin and the roots of her hair seemed to ache.

"Andrea", she rasped, and when the younger woman looked up at her with those concerned, beautiful eyes, she nearly began to cry. She did become quite sensitive when she had a fever, but this was ridiculous. "I am not feeling well".

"I'll clear your schedule for the next two days and call Roy immediately. Do you want me to make some more tea?"

Tears welled up in her eyes at this thoughtful question, but all she wanted was to get home.

"No, it's fine".

"Why don't you go lay down for a moment, and I'll tell you when Roy is here?", Andy said, knowing that Roy was on the other side of the city and would need some time to get through New York during lunch hour. And Miranda certainly looked as if she could need some rest.

"Yes, yes, I will", she replied weakly and went back to her office, collapsing on the couch in the far end of the room.

Andy frowned and looked to Emily.

"Em, I think I'd better go with her and make sure she gets home alright. She's pretty sick".

Emily raised her hands in a gesture of surrender.

"Rather you than me", she replied, but quietly, so not to attract the Dragon Lady's fire.

* * *

Miranda had curled up on the couch, putting her arms around herself to keep warm. She was freezing so bad she would even have welcomed a…

_Poncho?!_

Andrea smiled sheepishly as she put the ugly thing over Miranda's shivering body.

"I know it looks awful, but it's wool, and it's the only thing that I could find in the Closet that even remotely reminded of a blanket".

Miranda gave her a look that was almost shy, before closing her eyes.

"Thank you".

"You're welcome".


	2. Chapter 2

A/N

Okay, so I don't know how _common_ it is for flu symptoms to develop as fast as they do in this story, but I do know from personal experience that it is _possible_. When I had swine flu I woke up with a sore throat, by noon I was really feverish and had a cough, in the early afternoon I was almost delirious with fever and in the evening, after being valiant/stupid/in denial enough to go to the stable, bring ten horses in and feed them, instead of asking anyone for help, I was coughing so hard I sounded like I was on the verge of pneumonia. In one single day. So yes, it can happen.

Thank you all for your sweet comments. They always make me smile! :D

* * *

"Nigel, do you have any Aspirin or anything?" Andy popped her head in at her friend's office.

"Ah, Miranda-induced headache brewing, Six?" he commented without looking up from the photos on his desk. "I thought those came on Fridays rather than Wednesdays. Resilience failure?"

"Ha-ha, very funny. Actually, it's _for_ Miranda".

At this, he did look up.

"Aspirin? For _Miranda_? Miranda _Priestly_? Come on Six, she doesn't take anything, ever"

"She does, in fact, I'm the one who picks up her prescriptions, so I would know, but that's not the point. The point is that she's currently huddled up on the couch in her office, underneath a god-awful wool poncho, coughing her lungs out and running a fever of _at least_ 102, she didn't protest at all when I said I'd clear her schedule for two _days_, and I swear I think she was about to start crying".

Nigel sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Andy, I've only seen Miranda sick, as in really sick, once. That was almost twenty years ago. Believe it or not, but she gets 'Chick Flu'".

"Chick Flu? What is that?"

"The female equivalent of Man Flu. She turns into a _woe is me_-character. It's the only time she can be called pathetic".

"Nigel, she isn't whiny. She's not even alert enough to be her usual mean self. She's suffering, for real. So, do you have any Aspirin or not?"

"Over there, in the drawer".

"Thanks Nige!"

* * *

Andy was standing in the door of Miranda's office, watching the sleeping woman on the couch. It really didn't look comfortable. Andy's heart ached with sympathy, and something even deeper, as she studied her older boss, wondering which the smoothest way to wake her up was. She had never had the… pleasure, was the word that came up in her mind and she scratched it immediately – the _experience_, to wake Miranda and didn't know what to expect. There was this no-touching rule, of course, but…

"I can assure you, Andrea, that I am not yet dead", came a husky voice from the far corner. "I know you have been standing there staring at me for the past…" she trailed off and smothered a sneeze into the wool fabric of the makeshift blanket "two minutes".

"More like five", Andy heard herself say. _Oh God, am I really contradicting her?!_

"Oh", Miranda said. "Well. My perception is somewhat distorted at the moment".

"Quite understandable. Roy just texted me, he will arrive in about five minutes", Andy said, while approaching Miranda. She was now sitting upright, the poncho flung aside, but the closer Andy came, the more worried she got. Miranda was radiating so much fevered heat Andy felt like she was standing next to a bonfire.

"I have an Aspirin for you", she said. Miranda's eyes narrowed, but she said nothing. "Do you want me to call the hospital?" Andy added.

"No".

"Are you sure? You're burning up".

Miranda ignored this altogether.

"I… uh… I'll come with you and make sure you get home alright".

"No, you won't. You'll just end up catching it too".

_Aww, concern. No, wait. She's only concerned that I'll miss work. Ah, well, whatever._

"Nope. I've got an immune system made of iron".

"I'll simply have to take your word for it don't I, because clearly I am not in the mood to argue. However, call the twins' father and ask him to take the girls for the rest of the week as well, I don't want to pass it on to them".

"Yes, Miranda".

Miranda coughed again, a rattling sound coming from deep down her lungs. It was not a reassuring sound, and Andy discreetly checked her cell phone to make sure she had Miranda's doctor's number programmed, just in case.

* * *

Getting Miranda to the car wasn't an easy thing. She had refused to take the Aspirin, and when she got up and walked, her temperature went skyrocketing. She was shaky, her 4 inch heels not helping matters, and yet she refused to let Andy touch her to steady her. Beads of sweat were forming on her pale forehead as she tried to focus on where she was going, using all her willpower to seem as tough as usual. Andy, who could see right through her, was starting to worry that her boss would actually throw up or simply faint in the lobby of Elias-Clarke. So she did the only thing she could think of; grateful for their heavy winter coats to conceal what she was doing, she slipped an arm around Miranda's waist.

_She really is burning up_. Shit_. What do I do? Do I call the doctor in spite of what she tells me?_

Miranda gasped at the physical contact, but it was a gasp of pain rather than surprise or repulsion. Her body felt so wrecked and her skin was so sensitive that even the slightest touch was agony. But she wasn't recoiling, because Andrea's arm made her feel a lot steadier. She even leaned in and allowed Andrea to support her.

Roy was waiting outside the entrance as promised. Andy helped Miranda get inside, and then walked around the car and slid in at the backseat beside her. Miranda leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Andy didn't think she had ever seen the fashion icon look so tired before.

_So, the girls are being sent away, and Stephen has been way out of the picture for quite some time. That means she'll be staying alone in the townhouse, with no one to call an ambulance if she collapses. _

Andy shuddered at the thought.

"Miranda?" she said softly. "Can I call someone for you? A friend, someone who can come over and check on you?"

"I don't have any _friends_, Andrea", Miranda scoffed, as if friends was something nasty to have, but Andy, ever the mind reader, detected the sorrow that laced her words.

"Then let _me_ be your friend, at least for the time being, Miranda".

At this, blue, blood-shot and glazed eyes snapped open and pierced into Andy's eyes, searching for disdain or deceit, finding none of it. Finding only more of that honest, naïve concern. Caring. Miranda's heart skipped a beat and she felt a blush, unrelated to the fever, creeping up her cheeks. She looked away, clearing her throat.

"I suppose it would be… acceptable", she said coolly, but inside she fought to suppress a sob of gratitude towards this incredibly sweet young woman. It wasn't real affection, of course it couldn't be, but she could at least _pretend_ that Andrea did this because she cared about _Miranda_, and not simply about doing her job. Oddly comforted by this make-believe, Miranda drifted back to slumber, unaware of the tender look in Andy's eyes as she watched her sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N

HA! You just don't do this to Miranda and get away with it. Guess who woke up with a fever and sore throat today? Huh? Yours truly. However, I suspect my symptoms could be related to certain lady-time hormone assaults. Yeah, I'm weird, no need to point it out. :) The good thing about this is that since I stayed at home today, I had time to write another update on this story. Hope you like it. As always, your comments make me smile, and they make writing a lot easier, not to mention more pleasant. Thank you everyone!

* * *

As they got out of the car, Miranda willingly leaned on Andy for support. Making their way up the stairs to the front door, Miranda stopped, turned away from Andy and sneezed no less than five times in a row. She then sniffled, cleared her throat thickly and sighed.

"It's absurd, I can't stop", she groaned. As Andy giggled, Miranda shot her a glare that was nearly as deadly as it was when she was her usual, healthy-as-a-horse, self. Andy was rather impressed at this performance. She clasped a hand across her mouth but was unable to stop giggling.

"Sorry Miranda, I just found it funny how you said that _after_, you know, stopping".

Miranda merely looked at Andy until the giggles died a gruesome death before her poisonous glare. It was not really that she wanted to hurt Andy; she was simply trying the only way she knew how to recreate some of the distance between them, especially after allowing the younger woman to touch her. Showing herself weak in front of anyone was not something Miranda liked doing. She coughed again, then hung her head and looked like she was struggling not to faint.

_Aww, poor Miranda… she is so cute_, Andy thought. _Who knew the Dragon Lady even had that miserable, pitiful facial expression in her repertoire? Damn Nigel, if he had seen her in a state that reminded of this one, of course he would chalk it up to Chick Flu rather than seeing that Miranda was too weak to completely hold her defences. Men!_

"Sorry", Andy repeated and firmed her grip of Miranda's waist, wanting nothing more than pulling the older woman in for a full-bodied hug.

"Are we going to stand out here all day?" Miranda snapped in response, and that boss-tone finally got Andy together enough to produce a key and let them into the townhouse.

* * *

Miranda headed for the stairs as soon as she had removed her coat, Andy following in her wake. She could hear her boss breathing heavily, almost wheezing, and she again pondered calling the doctor. Following Miranda into a room – that she embarrassedly realized was her boss's bedroom – she was desperately monitoring the older woman's face as if her features alone could tell Andy how to handle this.

"Oh, will you stop looking at me l-like…" Miranda begun, before being overwhelmed by a coughing fit that forced her to double over. Tears streamed down her flushed face and her throat felt raw, like an open wound, when she finally came to a halt. She took a shaky breath and started to wipe at her face, smearing most of her makeup in the process.

"Miranda, please. Don't be angry with me, I'm only trying to help", Andy murmured. "I'm concerned. You're obviously sicker than you want to admit, and I'm not going to use it against you. You can trust me".

She knew she would have to reassure Miranda a thousand times over, with action and with words. Despite her poise and pride, Miranda Priestly was an extremely insecure woman. Not about what she could _do_, but about whom she _was_. Andy knew this instinctively, and she would gladly spend the rest of her life making Miranda understand that she could be loved and admired without constantly having to perform.

Maybe it wasn't too much of a surprise that she got so sick; perhaps the viruses invading her body picked up some of their host's characteristics and became workaholics who were very good at their job, Andy thought.

Miranda stayed quiet. This wasn't because she was trying to make Andy anxious, but because she simply did not know what to say. Then she briskly walked off, as if she hadn't been depending on Andy's support just a few minutes earlier, heading towards the bathroom.

"Miranda, where are you going?"

"Shower".

"Do you really think that's a good idea?"

"Yes", came the curt reply as the bathroom door closed behind her. Andy blinked.

"Okay, but don't lock…"

_Click_.

"Come on! Don't lock the door, if you collapse in the shower, I need to be able to get in to help you".

Miranda didn't reply. Andy knocked at the door. Well, she banged at it, actually.

"Miranda, don't be like this! Unlock the door!"

The sound of a shower running was the only thing that answered her desperate call. That and another raspy, violent coughing fit. Andy grimaced.

"Oh, you know what? Fine! Do as you please!", she called with a final punch to the door, and turned to leave.

_I'll just go check for supplies and make her something to eat, and once I see she's made it out of the shower alive, I'm out of here. Clearly there's a reason to why _La Priestly_ doesn't have friends; she doesn't want them._

* * *

As the younger woman's footsteps faded, Miranda began to cry. She had felt it coming all day and heroically fought it, but she had reached her limit; her walls crumbling, her defences dropping, her infamous ice melting. Andrea's concern was the final straw and she knew she had to get away from those Bambi eyes before she broke down. It was bad enough that Andrea had seen her in the throes of illness; she would be damned before she let _anyone_ see her cry. She was still sobbing when she stepped into the shower, the hot water enveloping her shivering body like a blanket. Miranda closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the tiles. She was beyond exhausted.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Andy had rummaged through Miranda's kitchen and found most of the things she was looking for; tea, honey, oranges, toast, and ingredients to make chicken soup. She had taken a quick walk down the block and found a pharmacy where she bought a box of tissues, some Tylenol, and cough medicine. It was probably a bit abnormal, but she kind of liked taking care of a sick Miranda. Of course, it would have been even better if the lady in question wasn't so reluctant to let her.

_Woe is me, huh_? Andy scoffed as she put down the purchases on the counter and then headed towards the stairs to check on Miranda.

The bathroom door was still locked and the sound of running water still persistent. Andy tried a knock that went unanswered.

"Miranda? Are you alright?"

_Yeah, way to ask stupid questions_, Andy scolded herself.

"Miranda?"

_Shit_!

Unpleasant scenarios and images went through Andy's head, images of a Miranda lying on the bathroom floor, unconscious, or even dead.

"That's it, Your Royal Highness, if you're injured or too sick to stand up, I could care less about your precious privacy issues", Andy growled and went to the kitchen to get something to break in with. A piece of cutlery would do, she thought, snatched a knife and went back upstairs.

"Miranda?!" she called again, pounding her fist against the door. "I'm coming in!"

It took some twisting and bending, but she finally got the knife to open the door, revealing a steamy atmosphere with the scent of roses. There was no Miranda on the floor, but Andy didn't know if she should be grateful for that, or nervous that the nasty surprise would be found in the shower instead.

"Mir-" she began, her heart pounding hard with worry. Then she saw that Miranda was at least standing upright. Thank God. She was leaning her forehead and lower arms against the tiles, while water splashed down her back. She was making odd noises, and as Andy got closer she realized that Miranda was… snoring. She was actually _snoring_.

_I've heard about people falling asleep in the bathtub, but never falling asleep while standing up in a shower_, Andy thought, and had to suppress an urge to laugh, or simply squee, at this display of cuteness before her.

"Huh? What?" Miranda turned around and stared at Andy. They both realized at the same that Miranda was naked.

"Uh, I… I'll just… get out of here", Andy stuttered.

"Yes, that might be a good idea".

Andy tried to tear her gaze away from the beautiful body in front of her, but she felt as if her eyes were glued to Miranda's breasts.

_If my tits looked like that when I'm in my fifties, I would_…

Andy thought, but never finished that thought before another one occurred in her mind;

_God, I'm staring at my naked boss_.

She didn't know she had spoken out loud until Miranda said;

"Indeed you are. What did you expect, bursting in here when you knew I was in the shower? That I would be wearing a fur wrap to protect your innocent eyes from inappropriate nudity, perhaps?"

She knew she was close to lashing out towards the only person, except for her daughters, who had been kind to her for only God knew how long, but she couldn't help it. She had been caught off guard and the only defence Miranda Priestly was familiar with, was attack.

"Sorry Miranda", Andy mumbled. "I just thought you were hurt".

"As you can see, unless you have suddenly gone blind above all, I am not. Get out. _That's all_".

Andy obeyed, leaning against the wall outside the bathroom, pressing her palms to her burning cheeks.

_I am so getting fired for that. Oh God, oh God, I saw her naked! Most beautiful sight in my life, and I'll never get to see it again. She's going to kill me! I won't even have to bother about finding a new job, because I'll be dead. Fuck! Fuck! _

* * *

Miranda stared at the door, where Andrea had just disappeared. She knew perfectly well that the girl's only intention had been to help. She also knew that she was entitled to be embarrassed and at least to some extent annoyed by this intrusion of her privacy. It didn't help knowing these things. Miranda's reaction to this bizarre situation, a reaction she blamed entirely on her fever, was to laugh.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N

My muse got scared and went into hiding, but I managed to coax her out by bribing her with chocolate chip chocolate ice-cream. I probably won't have the time to write any more on this story until after the weekend, due to life. Yes, that's right, I _do_ have a life outside of the Internet. OMG! ^^

Thanks for your sweet reviews, glad you enjoy the story so far. Also thank you for your well-wishes; I'm still feeling crappy but at least now I know it was due to lady-time. My body hates me.

Anyway. On with the show, okay? :)

* * *

It was only early afternoon, but as Miranda had towelled herself dry, she put on a silk nightgown and a matching robe, thinking that if she didn't make it to bed soon, she would probably start hallucinating as well. At first she pondered putting on some fresh makeup, at least to hide the now very visible bags under her eyes and the increasing redness around her nostrils, but she decided against it. Andrea would almost certainly flinch at seeing her true face, and that flinch would hurt Miranda's feelings more than any of her ex-husbands' insults, but she was too tired to care. What was the point anyway? She was sick, she was tired, she was in her own private home, and if that wasn't an excuse to look less than perfect, there was none.

As she opened the door, she found Andrea sobbing quietly outside the bathroom.

"Andrea?"

"Oh Miranda, I am so, so sorry, about, uh, walking in like that…"

"I know you had good intentions, but you handled it rather… poorly". Before Andy could reply, she added; "we both did".

"I'm so sorry…"

"Will you stop apologizing all the time? It's a deeply unattractive feature in an otherwise _very_ attractive individual"

_Oops_, Miranda thought. _Another_ _slip. I must be dying, if I sprinkle these all around me._

Instead of lingering on said slip, she went on. It hurt her throat to speak, but it hurt her heart even more to just leave it at that and make Andrea suffer for her sweet nature.

"If I am angry, I will not magically stop being angry just because you keep repeating how sorry you are. Besides, I know when you're sorry, because I know _you_. And for the record, no, I am not angry now. Wipe your tears, Andrea, and never apologize for doing what you feel is right".

She broke eye contact and finished; "That's all", because that was the only thing she could think of that wasn't turning this little speech into something too touchy-feely. Andy snorted at this, all too common Miranda phrase, and did as she was told. Miranda headed for her bedroom while Andy took a moment to find her bearings.

_Otherwise very attractive individual? Wow, that's better than smart, fat girl. Of course she didn't mean it, though. Then again, Miranda never says anything she doesn't mean. But she isn't well._

Andy shook her head at the impossible arguments and went downstairs to pick up the things she had gotten for Miranda.

* * *

Miranda had crawled in underneath the covers, nearly moaning with how good it felt to finally be back in her bed. She felt as if today had been going on for ten years. She huddled up on the side, back against the doorway, and closed her eyes.

_I'll send her back to the office in a moment_, Miranda said to herself. _As soon as she has gotten herself together, I'll send her back. As much as I, strangely enough, want her to stay, I can't ask it of her. It might be embarrassing for both of us, and I for one have had it with embarrassment for the rest of the _year_. And if she leaves before we clash for real, at least I can keep pretending she cares about me personally. _

* * *

"I have made you some tea", Andy whispered as she came back. "And I have picked up some stu-uuh, things for you", she added, then fell silent as she looked at the silvery head on the pillow. If she could only touch that hair, even once, she would die happy. And die she would, she thought and smirked at herself. No pushing your luck after surviving walking in on a naked – and sleeping- Miranda in the shower.

_I'll just put the things down on her bedside table, maybe write a note, and then head back to the office. _

Good advice, but Andy couldn't seem to stop pushing her luck. She did put the things down, but then she sat down on the bed next to Miranda, just looking at her. She looked so defenceless, and so very lonely, it broke Andy's heart.

Miranda watched her through almost-closed eyes, thinking how protective Andrea looked. She didn't feel threatened by the younger woman sitting so close, she felt sheltered. The way she supposed women were feeling when they were watched over by a man who loved them. A feeling she had never felt when it came to men. But very much so when it came to Andrea. Still half-delirious with sleep and fever, she opened her mouth and spoke;

"I'm afraid I'm not well enough to take advantage of your presence in my bed".

_Oh, _another_ one. Really, foolish old woman, is duct tape required in order to stop those preposterous things jumping out of you?!_

"That's a shame", Andy replied and looked shell-shocked at this comment, as though it hadn't been coming from her own mouth.

"Undeniably", Miranda agreed, her voice so husky it was even audible how painful speaking was for her. "Andrea… I'm sorry".

"For what?"

The response was so silent Andy nearly missed it.

"For being me".

"Miranda…"

"Please, Andrea. I need to sleep; I checked my temperature while you were downstairs and it's over 103 by now. I don't blame you if you want to go home, but…" she coughed and shook her head. "…if you want to, you could stay". She paused for a moment before adding, without looking Andy in the eye; "I want you to stay".

"I have to get back to the office…"

"Of course".

"…to fetch some things, but I can come back. You know, maybe make you something to eat?" Andy said, hesitantly.

"Would… would you do that?" Miranda asked in astonishment.

"Sure, if you want me to. If you believe I'm competent enough to make you food, that is", Andy said, trying to make a joke and hearing just how lame it sounded. She groaned. "Sorry, that was bad".

The corners of Miranda's lips curled slightly upwards.

"Personally I still think your compulsive apologies are worse than your jokes".

"Sor-"

One perfect eyebrow arched, daring Andy to finish the apology.

"That's _your_ opinion, lady", she said instead. Miranda chuckled.

"It is. Now, go. That's all".

"Sleep well, Miranda".

"Mm-hmm".

Miranda pulled the covers tighter around her, and thought _I really hope the last minute or so was simply a fever-induced hallucination. At least that part about taking advantage of her presence in my bed. Jesus Christ. _Thinking_ about it is one thing, flat out _telling_ her is something else entirely. _

With that, she was out like a light.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N

I was aiming on finishing a trade fic for a friend before bedtime today, but for some odd reason I finished the new chapter on this fic instead. I've said it before, I say it again, my muse needs a leash. Seriously.

Or are any of you guys bribing her, perhaps? I have my suspicions… ;)

* * *

"So, Six, how is our fearless leader? Woe is me-material yet?"

Andy loved Nigel like a brother, she really did, but the way he was making fun of Miranda the only time she was too weak to defend herself was quickly starting to grate on her nerves.

"Nigel, she just heard what you said, since I'm on the phone with her", Andy said, motioning to the cell phone she held in one hand, and Nigel turned a whiter shade of pale in less than a second. Andy grinned.

"Don't worry Nige, I don't have anyone on the line right now, but just, you know, leave her alone. I have to decide whether or not she is so sick I need to call the hospital, but every time I think I have do, she pulls herself together and acts almost like herself again. I don't know if it _is_ acting but I think it is. Besides, she had all the reason in the world to kill me a few hours ago and she spared me, so I'm still a bit dizzy alright?!"

"What did you do?"

"I walked in on her in the shower".

"Naked? With no clothes on?"

"Yes, naked with no clothes on", Andy said patiently and shook her head. "Uh, anyway, I'm just here to pick up some of my stuff, and then I'll get back".

"Back? To Miranda?"

"No, Nigel, to Michelle Obama. _Of course_ I meant Miranda".

* * *

An unknown fact about Miranda was that she was very prone to nightmares, which was one of the main reasons she slept so little and kept feeding herself caffeine to push back sleep as long as possible. Her minions chalked her non-existent sleep patterns up to superpowers, but it was simple fear. Fear of what terrible things she would encounter in the unexplored land of sleep. In the end she _had_ to sleep, of course, but she would fight it as hard as she could. She did have Ambien which she took when it was unbearable, but for most part, she was too proud to use them regularly.

When Andrea returned, Miranda was tossing and turning in her bed, sweating and whimpering, sometimes uttering words in panic; "no", "stop" and "please don't" mostly. Suddenly she cried out, in a broken, hoarse wail that chilled Andy to the bone. Andy dropped her bag on the floor and rushed over to her boss, grabbing the older woman by the shoulders.

"Miranda, it's okay, it's just a nightmare, shhh, you're fine, I'm here with you".

Blue eyes snapped open and didn't seem to recognize the young woman at all for a moment, then she relaxed and her chest heaved with painful, jagged breaths.

"Oh God", she managed before being completely overcome by a coughing fit. She coughed so ferociously she had to sit up and lean forward to get any air at all. Andy held her, stroking her sweaty forehead with a cool palm. As Miranda got herself back together, little by little, Andy sat down next to her on the bed. Miranda leaned her head on the younger woman's shoulder. When Andy pulled her in for a soothing embrace, Miranda didn't protest. In fact, she snuggled in closer.

"I think I need to call your doctor now, Miranda", Andy whispered. Miranda shook her head against Andy's chest.

"Don't you dare".

"I'm just so worried about you", Andy said, barely containing a sob. Miranda backed out of her embrace, but slowly, and looked into her eyes.

"Why?"

"I care about you, Miranda".

"Oh, I wish", Miranda said, her eyes widening in surprise only to narrow dangerously the very next moment. "Andrea, get me some duct tape".

"Duct tape?" _Great, now she's hallucinating. I have to call the hospital._

"Yes, _duct tape_. I can't seem to stop myself from saying exactly what crosses my mind today and I do not care for that. Before I know it I might even tell you for exactly _how_ long I've been yearning to kiss you".

Miranda Priestly very rarely cursed, and if she did it was mostly in French or Italian, but now she flinched in sheer terror over her lack of self-control and spat:

"_Oh for fuck's sake!"_

Andy didn't know what shocked her most; Miranda's sudden outburst in street speak, her comment about yearning to kiss Andy, or the fact that it could all be chalked up to delirium.

Hiding her reddening face into her hands, Miranda swallowed through a raw, swollen throat. Andrea would probably be half-way to the west coast by now, fleeing her obviously perverted boss, either that or laughing while making a phone call to the hospital.

"Miranda, it's okay". The gentle voice was close, and soft, cool hands gently covered hers. "Shh, look at me, Miranda".

She lowered her hands, knowing she must look absolutely hideous; stripped of all makeup, pale with flushed cheeks, runny nose and watery eyes. Andrea did not recoil, however.

_What a remarkable little creature she is_, Miranda marvelled.

"I don't know if it's just the fever talking, or if it's the real you behind your icy persona, but regardless of it, what you just said was the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me. Well, except for the curse, of course", she added, and Miranda actually smiled vaguely at this – "And I don't mind for a second if you do want to kiss me. In fact, I would love you to".

Miranda acted on impulse – _again_, this was certainly starting to get old – and pulled Andy close, eagerly but with a tenderness completely unlike her usual Snow Queen personality, kissed the soft, plump, naturally red lips she had been dreaming of for over six months. She withdrew, stunned at the pull that seemed to draw her into Andrea, a surge that seemed to become stronger with each moment, and tried to school her features into reflecting a calm she didn't feel.

"You are definitely going to get sick now", she said sourly, as if scolding Andy for accepting her viruses. Andy's immediate response was a wide grin.

"Iron immune defence", she reminded, then her smile faded and a shy look replaced it. "I… want you to do that again".

"And I want to _do_ that again", Miranda responded, feeling as if a stranger had taken possession over her entire body and soul. Her heart was pounding so hard she feared Andrea would mistake it for an imminent cardiac arrest. And the last thing she wanted right now was some ridiculous, panic ride to the hospital.

She kissed Andrea, gently but thoroughly, until her body reminded her that the reason she was in bed was not because of Andrea's very gorgeous presence. She broke the kiss and stifled a sneeze into cupped hands, immediately followed by a cough.

"My apologies", she muttered, looking away.

"No need for them", Andy smiled. "I'll go make you something to eat".

"Let me guess. Chicken soup?"

"Correct".

"Really, how creative", Miranda commented dryly, to hide how touched she was.

"Oh my God, stop it, you're flattering me", Andy replied jokingly, drawing yet another tentatively smile from Miranda. "Don't go anywhere, sweetie".

_Sweetie?_ Miranda thought. _And did I really just kiss her? Did she really just kiss me back? And now what? _

Watching Andrea's very shapely back as the brunette was leaving the room, she sighed and answered her own question silently.

_Trouble, that's what_.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N

The nightmare I describe Miranda having, was actually a nightmare I had myself the other night. Although I wasn't looking for a perfect pair of shoes to match my outfit, but simply a pair of shoes. It probably has some psychological meaning, too. In hindsight, it was a quite ridiculous nightmare, but while it lasted it was scary enough.

I know some people thought the last chapter seemed rushed and sloppy. I agree. It is. But I was trying to impress a certain someone who really wanted a new update, and, well.. Oh, and I can't figure out how to edit a chapter I've already posted without deleting and reposting, so we just have to live with the typos and all.

This is just a shorter update to tell you guys I'm not dead, and yes, my muse does indeed weigh a ton by now. ;)

* * *

Andy felt like she was walking around in a daze as she made her way to the kitchen. She was desperately trying to tell herself that she had simply been dreaming the whole episode, or at least that Miranda did not actually _mean_ to kiss her; that the older woman was simply delirious and unfocused

_Ha, she's more focused in the throes of a fever, than most people I know are on a perfect day_, Andy's mind huffed in response to this defence

And even if Miranda did mean to kiss her by the time she had, she would surely deny it tomorrow. Or even right now. Andy tried to steel herself at the thought of being sent away with nothing but a disapproving glare, a "that's all", and a flu of her own. Oh, well then, so be it. At least she wouldn't give Miranda a reason to feel Andy was abandoning her – if Andy was going to leave, it would have to be on Miranda's orders. Her _explicit_ orders.

_But what if Miranda really was interested? As in, romantically interested_? The other part of Andy's mind asked, timidly. Andy stopped in her tracks at this thought. Miranda certainly hadn't seemed like she was simply fooling around, besides, the very idea of Snow Queen 'fooling around' was ridiculous.

_She didn't scold me for calling her sweetie. _

She grinned. What was it Miranda had told her in the early days? "I had hope. My God, I live on it".

Andy decided to let herself live on hope, too.

* * *

Miranda was leaning back against the pillows, thinking about her nightmare. It was truly absurd. She had been haunted by something – something with very large teeth – through a house that seemed endless. There had been exits, but she couldn't go through them because she was looking for a specific pair of shoes, and she couldn't find them. There were other shoes, but she was not going to get outside without the right pair; the perfect pair. The only shoes that went with the clothes she was wearing. She wasn't a fool, awake she knew that this was a very obvious illustration of how she let her strive for perfection supersede everything important in life; perhaps even life itself. She was trapped, and in the end it was all because of herself. There were ways out, but she wouldn't take them, because she was afraid of imperfection.

So the dream itself was silly, but what it represented was evident.

_I can't settle for fine, or alright. I need perfect. Even if it kills me. I wonder if it's worth it in the end?_

There was nothing wrong with having goals and wanting to achieve something in life. There was nothing wrong with demanding that people perform their very best at work. The problem was when the struggle for perfection became a substitute for life. Life, Miranda knew, wasn't perfect. It could never be. That was what made it life. Oh, it could be staged, lit and turned into something that _looked_ like perfection, but that was all about the right scene décor, makeup and angles.

Fake, in other words.

Andrea was _genuine_. Miranda found herself yearning for more than just the young woman's physical appearance but also her innermost, her core, that had survived New York's cynicism and Miranda's poison. A heart that could take on a whole world of menaces and still stay genuinely tender, perhaps that heart could make room for a certain old, ill-tempered editor-in-chief, too?

As strange as it sounded, stranger things had indeed happened. She had actually _hired_ Andrea once upon a time, hadn't she? In spite of that horrible sweater and the girl's unpreparedness. The least you could expect from someone applying for a job, would be that they knew what the company, or magazine in this case, was _about_. It was Nigel's thoughtless remark that had gotten Andrea the job, and nobody but Miranda knew it. "Are we doing a before-and-after piece I don't know about?", he had scoffed, and it wasn't until then that Miranda had seen the potential in the young brunette. Perhaps the poorly dressed, timid girl could turn into a beautiful swan? Diamonds are coal changing from time and hard pressure. Miranda could certainly put pressure on the people around her – maybe she could turn Andrea into a diamond as well?

Miranda, despite popular belief, didn't always know herself why she did things; she acted on instinct and that instinct very rarely led her astray. Although sometimes, it didn't turn out the way it had seemed from the beginning. She _was_ famous for being unpredictable, and there were times when she was unpredictable even to herself. She hadn't thought about love when she had hired Andrea. But perhaps that was what would come of it?

Miranda smiled. _Hope_, she thought. _Hope, faith and love. I've always been able to do the first two. Maybe I can do the third as well. _


	7. Chapter 7

A/N

Thank you everyone for your kind words and encouragement! I've had such a writer's block over Christmas and only just getting over it now. Therefore, this isn't a very long update, but I hope to get back on track soon again. Again, thank you guys. :D

* * *

When Andy returned with the soup, Miranda was still sitting up in bed, leaning back against her pillows. But she looked like she would soon lose what little grasp on consciousness that she still held on to. In fact, she looked like she held on to it by sheer willpower alone.

"I'm not sure I can eat", she admitted as Andy put the bowl down at the bedside table.

"Try. It has magical powers", Andy encouraged her. Miranda gave her a quick glance.

"Perhaps", she said and reached for the spoon.

It was a delicious soup – she wouldn't have thought herself able to taste anything, given how profoundly congested she was, but it turned out she still had her sense of taste intact – and she somehow managed to eat all of it. Her throat felt slightly better afterwards. She looked at Andy, who was sitting by her side, watching with her usual eagerness to please. Miranda nodded curtly as she finished.

"Passable", was the only word she said, an understatement that only an employee of Runway would consider a raving review. Andy didn't just smile, she practically glowed. Miranda tilted her head to the side. Some of her silvery locks fell into her eyes as she did so, making her look like a girl again.

"Actually, Andrea, it was delicious. Thank you".

For a moment, Miranda feared that she had praised the younger woman to the point where she would simply drop dead, but of course, Andy could handle unexpected praise as well. _What a remarkable little creature she is_, Miranda thought once again, and smiled feebly. Andy returned the smile a thousand times more radiant and took the spoon and the empty bowl from Miranda.

"Thank _you_", Andy said. She felt like she had butterflies all over her body; fluttery, tingly, fuzzy, and all together she felt very much in love. "Now get some rest. You need it. I'll come back and check on you in a few hours. Just… call if you need me, okay?"

"Will you…" Miranda began, her voice trailing off as she battled yet another coughing fit, but had to surrender. A flash of worry crossed the young woman's features as Miranda struggled to get her breathing back under control. "Will you stay?" she finally managed to get out.

"Yes, I'm not going anywhere".

"Good. You may use my study if you need to work".

"Are you sure?"

Miranda rolled her eyes, and for a moment she was all her usual, arrogant and poised self.

"Do I usually say things I don't mean?"

"No, Miranda. Okay. Thank you. You rest now".

"Oh, and Andrea. Will you please stop looking so worried?"

"It's kind of hard not to look worried when you sound like you're about to cough up your lungs", Andy replied, sounding slightly angry and very concerned at the same moment.

"This is what happens when I get the flu". Miranda's voice was merely a harsh whisper now, but she pushed on. "I don't get ill very often, but when I do, I am _very_ ill for two days, maybe three at most. Others are usually down for a week or more. I will be alright, Andrea. Quite soon".

"Promise?"

Miranda saw bright tears shine in the corners of the brunette's eyes. _Tears_? Was she really _that_ worried?

"Cross my heart and hope to die", she replied, just like she had always said to her children. Andy however shuddered at the words.

"I sure hope _not_", she muttered and got to her feet. Miranda desperately wanted to say something more, but she had fought heroically against the feverish sleep for too long and she had no power left to keep doing so. She pulled the covers tighter around her body and closed her eyes, more fainting than actually falling asleep.

* * *

Andy washed up the bowl and the spoon by hand, allowing herself to wallow in the fact that Miranda had enjoyed the soup. She would set up her laptop in the study and write for an hour tops, then she would check on Miranda again. She wasn't going to risk anything; she would rather have Miranda annoyed than dead. She hoped the fashion queen had told the truth about her health, and supposed she had. Miranda didn't lie. She could manipulate and choose to say only parts of the truth, but she never blatantly lied. It didn't really ease Andy's concern though. But that was part of loving someone, wasn't it?


	8. Chapter 8

A/N

Somebody asked why I have dropped this story. The answer is, I haven't. :) I am working on this story as well as other projects, non-fanfiction as well. It's been _a lot_ going on in my life lately so I have to pick and choose between projects, because obviously (and sadly) I can't do all of them at once. But I do keep on writing. So. Here we go.

This one is for TheLadyHoll. Take good care of yourself now, and I wish you a speedy recovery! *hugs*

* * *

Andy felt her stomach starting to rumble and she realized that she hadn't eaten anything herself in… ah, well, too long. She pondered having some of the chicken soup herself, but decided against it. Miranda probably wouldn't be able to eat anything but soup for at least another day – even the toast had been left untouched and Andy cursed herself for not realizing the truth earlier; of course Miranda wouldn't eat oranges or toast the way her throat must hurt. Andy remember having the flu once when she was in her mid teens, and the throat ache was so sharp it felt like having razors shoved down her throat. Trying to swallow anything that wasn't liquid was simply impossible. But Miranda hadn't been snarky about it, she merely hadn't touched anything but the tea and the cough medicine.

"So, soup belongs to Miranda. What shall I eat, then?" she asked herself aloud, surprised at how natural it sounded. Here she was, in Miranda Priestly's kitchen, and felt… at home. Wow. She grabbed one of the slices of toast bread, and ate it cold with some butter on, leaning against the sink. She made a cup of tea – drinking coffee when Miranda couldn't was just mean – and took it with her into Miranda's study. She opened her laptop and emailed Emily, explaining that Miranda definitively had the flu and was going to stay home sick at least the next day. Possibly and probably the following day as well, and then it was weekend. If Miranda really did heal as quickly as she claimed, she might be able to get back to work on Monday. Andy told Emily to bring the Book, just to be on the safe side. She didn't think Miranda would be well enough to go over it, at least not tonight, but if she _asked_ for the damn mock-up, at least it was going to be in the house, saving Andy a panicky midnight run to Elias Clarke and back.

She fired off a couple of emails that was overdue, mostly to designers and a few models, to let them know the scheduled meetings with Miranda were cancelled. Zita, one of the models, replied: "Oh my God thank you, thank you SO MUCH!", and Andy giggled at this, then deleted the email so Miranda wouldn't catch a glimpse of it and take it out on the poor girl. She emailed Calvin Klein and asked them to send photos of the skirts they had planned to bring for tomorrow's run-through, in case Miranda would want to see them anyway.

She did her job, shortly put.

Then she opened a Word document and started tapping at the keyboard, filling the blank white page with words almost without seeing them. She had fallen straight into the story as she wrote, all of Andy that was still there was just a life support for mind's eye. As she wrote of the reunion of the main characters, she felt a slight tickle in the back of her nose. First she paid no attention, but it didn't go away. She sniffed, cleared her throat, and then sneezed into her sleeve.

_Oops. I sure hope that was just a random sneeze. _

But she was feeling slightly warmer than usual, wasn't she? Absolutely not. Uh-huh. Nope. And even if she did, she would definitely not tell Miranda that she might come down with something herself. She cleared her throat again and bit her lip. There was definitely something going on with her throat… and nose, she thought as she sneezed again.

* * *

Miranda had gone against her own character and blatantly lied to Andy. She was no superwoman – well, she _was_, in many ways if she may say so herself, but not when it came to suffering through a bad case of the flu and then recovering from it. What happened for the first two days or so was that the level of incapacity would waver, as if her body hadn't decided on just how ill she was. Sometimes she would seem almost like herself, and the next moment she would practically be hallucinating. She had little or no control over her emotions when she reached the true "sick state", and she was going to let Andrea stay until tomorrow, then at best possible "almost back to my old self"-moment send her home. Or back to work, at least. After these "about two" days, she would be knocked out cold for one week or more, as the true level of the flu would settle, and it wouldn't be pretty. But at least then she wouldn't have to worry about a) getting the girl infected, b) getting the girl too close – that kissing thing had been very much a mistake, or perhaps it had only been a fever dream?, or c) having someone worrying about her like she was a little kid. She was, god damn it, Miranda Priestly, not some elementary school girl with the sniffles.

But now, all tangled up in blankets and covers, hair messed up, and coughing wildly in her sleep until tears unwillingly fell from her eyes, she certainly looked more like a very sick little kid than a powerful fashion mogul. Unknowingly, she also looked very lonely in the monster of a bed - it didn't even look like luxurious solitude, it looked like plain old miserable loneliness. Perhaps she was aware of it on a subconscious level, and wished for it to be different, for she held on to one of the pillows for dear life, embracing it like it was a living, breathing, human bed mate.

Miranda was lonely, and no matter how much she might have wanted that to change, she was too afraid to change it herself.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N

Just wanted to say a great big THANK YOU for all your sweet reviews and comments, I'm so flattered and somewhat surprised that people like this story so much. You are the best, guys! Thank you lots! 3

* * *

When Andy returned after the first hour, Miranda was still asleep, but she wasn't tossing and turning, and her coughing was somewhat less violent. She seemed to be in a phase of deep and much-needed recovering sleep, so Andy just checked on her without entering the bedroom. Miranda had her arms curled around a pillow, and Andy felt a flow of emotions rushing at her from this sight. Compassion for the strong but lonely woman before her, a deep, almost aching desire to join her, and jealousy. Yes, it was true. Andrea Sachs was jealous of a _pillow_! How more obvious could one person be? Christ. She shook her head slightly and smiled grimly. Miranda had kissed her, but considering the rest of her behaviour, that kiss was in the past now and would not be repeated. Andy had gotten away with calling her "sweetie" and whatnot, but perhaps it was time to stop pushing her luck and get back to being a friendly professional, nothing else. With a bit of luck, Miranda wouldn't be entirely sure what had been real and what had been delusions due to her high fever, later on.

Besides, if Andy was catching this herself, she definitely didn't think Miranda would want her to hang around. And Andy was more or less certain now that she was coming down with something at least. It didn't necessarily have to be the flu, it _could_ be a common cold she supposed, but whatever it was it made her feel frail and feverish, nowhere near Miranda's temperatures of course, but that might just be a matter of time. Her throat felt raw, her nose tickled nearly constantly now, and she felt tired to her bones.

_Yeah, I made for a damn good nurse, don't I_? she thought, mocking herself, as she went back to Miranda's study and plopped down at the chair by the laptop once more. This time she didn't feel like working on the stupid novel – it was a pretty dumb story anyway, she thought. Nor was there anything acute to deal with at Runway; she had been a bit too efficient earlier, but the way she was starting to feel now, she was just glad she had been. Less work to pile up on her if she had to take a few sick days. She opened a computer game of cards –"Hearts" - and started playing, with no passion or enthusiasm at all. To be honest she hadn't really learned the rules of Hearts, but it was fun anyway, in a time-passing, vague way.

And that could be translated into her real life as well, couldn't it? She never really learned the rules of hearts. It was a game, of that she had been convinced, but the rules seemed to be rather careless and impulsive. She had always thought it was supposed to be easier than it was. Boy asks girl out, girl accepts. Dating occurs. Kissing occurs. Girl says I love you. Boy responds I love you. If he does that, it's true and it's all settled. Happy ever after, and so on. Well, Nate had shown her nothing was that simple and nothing was settled. Anyone can say "I love you", but actions speak louder than words. And rings truer, as well.

They had broken up on relatively friendly terms, which meant that he didn't scream at her whenever he saw her, but actually spoke to her in a semi-calm voice. She had later found out that he had been planning to move to Boston long before their breakup, with or without her. They still called each other now and then, just a "hi, how's it going, I'm good, take care, bye", something that her father used to describe as "duty call" and her mother called a "not all strings cut yet-call". In the beginning her parents had been angry with her for ruining the promising relationship with Nate, but later they had come around and taken Andy's side.

Her father had mentioned that he had thought the job was the reason for Andy's depressive phases, but now realized that it had had more to do with Nate. That wasn't entirely true, but if that meant her father wouldn't pick too much on Miranda, Andy was willing to go along with that white lie. Her mother said the same thing, but Andy could hear the unspoken question in her mother's voice, and she did her best to block it out and only answer forthright questions.

_Are you in love with your boss, sweetheart?_ That was the question Mrs Sachs wanted to ask, Andy was sure of it. It wasn't that unusual for Andy to develop crushes on older, more mature women… the school teacher crushes had been many over the years, but she had never spoken openly about it. Andy supposed she was bisexual, maybe even lesbian, but she hadn't given it much thought. Not bothered to learn the rules of the hearts, because she had been settled already. And now that Nate was gone and that settlement was gone… suddenly her heart was at stake in a very real way.

"Stupid", she spat at herself, and then had to struggle to hold back a quick coughing fit.

* * *

When she checked on Miranda this time, the older woman was awake and sat up in bed, reading a novel.

"Hey… you look better", Andy commented as she entered the door. Miranda looked up, cheeks flushed but her eyes not quite as glassy as they had been before she got some sleep, and gave Andy a drawn out glance. Whatever she had taken to bring the fever down, it had worked quite well, even if they both knew the respite would only be short-lived.

"_You_ don't look so good", she responded.

"Ah, well, I think I could use a shower and a change of clothes, but otherwise, I'm just naturally ugly."

"Was that another one of your lame jokes, or has your eyesight suddenly failed you?", Miranda snorted and turned the page. Her breathing sounded strained, but she wasn't coughing uncontrollable at the moment, leading Andy to believe the silver haired lady had been awake long enough to serve herself a healthy dose of coughing medicine.

"Uh?"

"I was not referring to your clothes or your natural looks – which by the way are flawless. I referred to the fact that you look pale, your eyes are bloodshot and glassy, and your voice has taken on a slightly raspy quality. Are you getting sick too?"

"N-no, I'm fine."

At this crucial moment, of course her nose decided not to cooperate with her. An absolute urge to sneeze overwhelmed her, and it came over her so suddenly she barely had time to turn away from Miranda before sneezing.

When Andy turned back, flushed with embarrassment and building fever, Miranda tried to look stern, but a twitch in the corners of her mouth betrayed her.

"I see."

Andy coughed. She tried to suppress it, but it was impossible. This time Miranda did smile.

"I thought you said you had an iron immune defence?"

"I… lied".

"Why would you ever do that?"

"I didn't want you to be all alone, sick and miserable and…" she nearly sobbed now, waiting to be ordered to leave. But Miranda surprised her.

"Andrea. Do you have anyone to look after you?"

"No. I guess I could call Doug, he's the only friend of mine who stayed when Nate left, but he's kind of a germ phobic, so…"

"That settles it". Miranda's voice cracked and she had to resort to whispers. "Go take a shower, find something comfortable to wear; nightgowns are to the right in the first aisle in the closet. Then bring some more soup, _two_ bowls, _two_ spoons, and then come to bed".

Andy stared at her, unbelieving, looking for the deliriousness in Miranda's face, but she saw none of that. It would come back whenever the Tylenol stopped working, but right now she was nearly herself. Regal, determined. And as ever, unpredictable to the point of insanity.

"Yes, Miranda. Thank you."

Miranda rolled her eyes and coughed.

"Well, haven't you heard? Misery does indeed love company".

As Andy left the room, Miranda smiled to herself. A really bad day had suddenly turned into a very nice one. If it wasn't for the damned flu, it would actually be a perfect day.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N

Hey, I'm so sorry it took so long with this. I lost my Mirandy happy thoughts, and then my mother suffered from a heart attack, so I haven't really been in the mood for writing much of anything. (Mom is fine now, though – thank God!).

This will be the last instalment of this particular story, but I still like the idea of a sick Miranda and a caretaking Andy, so there might be more stories like that in my Mirandy future.

* * *

_She has aisles in her closet_? Andy mused to herself when she, very carefully, feeling like an intruder, entered Miranda Priestly's closet. Her mouth dropped open and for several minutes, she could do nothing but stare.

_She could have _rooms_ in her closet_, Andy thought, entering a space at least twice the size of the apartment she had shared with Nate. It was neatly organized in a very Miranda-ish way, which made Andy smile. She took the turn to the right where the nightgowns were supposed to be, and had to stop again. No living person could need this many different nightclothes. There were silk and satin, Egyptian cotton. There were nightgowns with straps, with sleeves, pajamas with long sleeves and pantlegs, with short ones, there were tank tops and boxers…

_Miranda_? Andy thought and blushed. She blamed it on the fever, but knew it wasn't to blame.

Every piece of clothing was impeccable, designer brands, and most actually looked comfortable. Andy reached for the tank top and boxers, but hesitated.

_I'm not sure I understood her right, but she might have meant for me to share the bed with her. What do you wear in bed next to Miranda Priestly?_

The answer seemed obvious. _Nothing_.

Andy blushed again, cursed herself for letting her mind wander to places that would embarrass her like that, and picked out a nightgown instead. It looked like an evening dress, but with thin straps and no actual cleavage showing. Andy sighed. Miranda would probably scold her choice for some reason or the other, but at least she wouldn't seem too inappropriate.

* * *

As Andy entered the bedroom wearing a long, silk nightgown in bright sky-blue, with straps and no visual cleavage, Miranda pursed her lips in dislike. The colour was beautiful, the cloth draped magnificently over the brunette's stunning body, but… she couldn't really _see_ anything of said body. Just the lanky arms, collarbones and a long, slender neck, which in itself was lovely, but… she wanted to see those long legs, a hint of the full breasts, the stomach… if only the silly girl had chosen one of the tank top/boxer sets instead.

Miranda's mouth felt dry and her palms wet. She swallowed and nodded.

"A beautiful shade", she said. At least that was true.

"But?" Andy picked up something else in her voice, not to mention the sight of Miranda's pursed lips.

"But nothing. Come to bed before you catch… oh, right. Never mind". Miranda actually smiled a little at herself at this comment.

"Are you sure? I mean, I'd assume you have a lot of guest rooms, and…"

"…and it would be rather useless plan for 'caretaking' if we sleep on different floors and are too feverish to get up and walk that far, don't you agree?" Miranda sighed and took off her reading glasses, glancing at Andy while she put down a tray with soup, water, tea and some medicine on the bedside table, and finally pulled the covers aside and crawled up.

"Oh wow… this is the comfiest bed I've ever been in!" she exclaimed before realizing that it was Miranda Priestly's bed, and she was indeed speaking to Miranda Priestly. She shot Miranda a shy glance, waiting for a poisonous retort, but the older woman only nodded.

"Thank you. I got it after Stephen left. Not that he slept many nights in my bed, but still…"

Miranda coughed heavily and had to look away from the compassion in Andrea's eyes.

"I apologize", she said after catching her breath. The brunette looked puzzled.

"What for?"

"Infecting you, of course."

Andy didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"It's okay Miranda, really. It's fine. I usually have a flu shot, but I was a bit too busy to get around doing that this year."

"Too busy working, you mean", Miranda said, her eyes never leaving Andy's.

"Work was only part of it. Nate another. Oh, he left alright, but before that, he kept my mind spinning." She shrugged and then suddenly became very much aware of how little clothes she was wearing, and how little clothes Miranda was wearing, and how they actually sat in the same bed, under the same cover. She gulped a little at this. They weren't so close they actually touched – this was a bed that Andy would bet on being larger than King Size – but given the rising body temperature from both sides (and not all of _that_ was due to fever, either) they could both feel each other's body heat.

"He 'kept your mind spinning', Andrea. Are you going to tell me what that means?" Miranda broke eye contact first. She pretended she was simply reaching for the soup that Andrea so thoughtfully had placed on her bedside table. She wasn't hungry, but she couldn't keep looking into eyes with so much emotions and so much… soul, in them, for much longer. She rarely saw that look in anyone's eyes, but Andrea had quickly become an exception to pretty much anything.

"I don't know, he kept implying things… even before we broke up, he would imply that I was… having an affair."

Miranda raised an eyebrow.

"Were you?"

"No! God no!" Andy coughed and reached for her own bowl of soup. "I've always been faithful to him."

"But you weren't always true to him in your thoughts, were you? Or your heart?" Miranda filled in, in a matter-of-factly tone. "If you were, you wouldn't act this guilty."

"I guess not", Andy replied with a sigh.

"Was there anyone who inspired these thoughts into cook boy's head, or…?" she sounded genuinely curious. Her voice was a ragged ghost, coming and fading again, but the words seemed very clear to Andy. Their meaning was obvious. _Were you in love with someone else, and if so, who was it_? the older woman asked without really asking it. Andy knew Miranda had kissed her earlier, but she had almost convinced herself that it was either a dream or Miranda's fever delusion that had brought that on… but right now, Miranda seemed very much herself. Burning up of course, and her throat sounded raw and she was so congested the nose spray didn't help at all, but not delirious.

"Andrea?" she rasped, and the younger woman snapped back to reality with a startled gasp.

"Yes", she responded. "Yes, there was someone else. In my thoughts and in my heart, but never in my life. You know, never in my bed."

"Who was it? Was it Emily?"

Andy couldn't help laughing. She laughed so hard she nearly spilled the last spoonful of her soup all over her pretty nightgown.

"I can't see how that would be amusing", Miranda huffed and took a sip of the hot tea. "I do like Emily, but she is way too neurotic to be appealing."

"I'm sorry Miranda, but yes, I agree. Serena doesn't, though. They have been dating for quite some time."

"Ah. Suddenly things fall into place."

"Personally…" Andy fidgeted in bed and looked down at her hands. "I'm fonder of a mature, classy lady who isn't afraid to take command."

Miranda held her breath.

"Like, um… you."

Miranda exhaled, which turned into a coughing fit of enormous proportions. When the storm had calmed down – and a worried Andrea had put an arm around her to steady her – she looked straight into brown eyes and smiled.

"Oh thank God", she whispered. Her voice was nothing more than just that, a whisper, by now, but it still carried through the air with its usual determination.

"You're not mad?"

"At you? No. I'm very glad you are here with me. While the circumstances aren't exactly…" she coughed again, "_ideal_, the result seem to be worth it."

"I feel the same way. I just wish, you know, that we had the energy to make more out of it."

Miranda grinned and pulled the brunette closer.

"I'm convinced there will be plenty of time for that. But first, let's enjoy a few sick days…"


End file.
